Prim The 74th District 12 Tribute
by laughinglaura
Summary: In a different version of the Hunger Games, volunteering to be a tribute is forbidden. Your name is selected, you must face the arena. In this case, it is Prim.


Prim- The 74th District 12 Tribute

Katniss clutches my hand, her nails digging into my palm.

"Prim, listen. Listen to me. You're name is only going to be put in there once, they're not going to pick you."

I try to listen, try to stop the sobs and try to shake off the fear that is pushing down on my chest. Hot tears fall and spill onto my faded nightgown, creating a new shade of yellow.

Katniss grips my shoulder with her other hand and pulls me in closer. "Stop crying. Relax. You have nothing to worry about."

I blink and look up at her. I want to believe her, but even in the pitch black I can see her face creasing up in worry. I hesitate.

Then I nod slowly.

"Now go back to sleep," Katniss hugs me and then puts me back down in bed. She kisses my forehead and then goes back to her own.

I turn over and look at my mum. She has her back turned to me, as always. She stays in the same position every night, never moving, barely breathing. She's not much better awake, and my eyes almost always burn into her neck as she heaves silently during the long hours of the day.

If Katniss wasn't here to feed us we would both be shrunken corpses on the ground right now. That I know for a fact.

I shut my eyes tight and try to think of something else. Something good. But what good memory do I have? If it's not the thought of the games it's dad, if it's not the memory of dad then it's Katniss, and if it's not the chilling image of Katniss getting caught hunting then it's the thought of loosing her as well.

I feel a sudden flick of movement by my leg and I nearly scream, but it's only Buttercup. He borrows under the duvet and then crawls into my arms, softer than velvet. He purrs and I stroke him and breathe in his musky scent of grass and dust.

After inhaling for a while, I fall into a sleep where episodes of different nightmares play over and over in my head.

I feel myself drift out sleep and snap my eyes open quickly. I know this is the day, no matter how many times I try to push it back some more.

Katniss isn't here, but I know where she is. I can't help but worry though. I'm so scared she will get caught someday, or she will trip and fall into the electric fence, or, or…

I shiver and get out of bed quickly. Mum is still in the same position, but I will never check to see if her eyes are closed or not. It's better not to know.

I dress quickly, pulling an old shirt over my head and a frayed yellow skirt up around my waist. I put on a pair of Katniss' old hunting boots and her old jacket. Then I turn and go outside.

It's surprisingly cold when I step outside and onto the mud strewn grass. I shiver in the thin jacket and go round the back to where Lady is. I care for her and collect her milk. I will make it into cheese soon as a gift for Katniss. Like a bit of good luck.

After collecting some water from the well I come home, hands aching from the weight of the metal bucket, the handle creating a painful red groove along both hands. Mum is busy lighting the stove and laying out me and Katniss' outfits for the reaping. I look at her and she looks at me.

Then we both turn away, tears glistening in our eyes.

I heat up the water and pour it into the steel bath. I wash slowly, shaking. I even wash my hair, taking elaborate time.

I don't think I have ever been so clean before.

I towel myself dry and then go and put on my reaping outfit. It's a blue shirt paired with a white pleated skirt, and for a moment I savour the moment of wearing such lovely clothes. I twirl my skirt, tuck in my shirt quickly and go and make the cheese for Katniss. It doesn't take long as I'm a dab hand at it now.

By the time Katniss comes back the water in the bath has gone cold. Mum prepares for her a small bowl, and she hurriedly washes her body, even stops to wash her hair like me. She then puts on _her_ reaping outfit, a blue dress that used to be mum's. Like me, she takes just a second to gaze at herself and I almost see a shadow of a smile pull on the sides of her mouth. But as quickly as it comes it is gone.

Mum then pleats both of our hair. I fidget uncontrollably, a sick feeling in my stomach, fear pushing down on my insides.

"Come on, Prim. Time to go," Katniss breathes as steadily as she can and tries to look ok. I do the same and follow.

We all go to the square. I can see a whole line of Capitol worker. I can see them speak the same syllables. I can see sliver of sharp metal as it sinks its tooth into someone's finger.

I don't want to do this. I really don't. I stand rooted, gasping. Katniss stops and runs back to me and I start to cry.

"Does-does it hurt?" I shake.

"Only a little, it'll be over before you know it." Katniss has a hand on both of my shoulders, and she is looks into my eyes. "Come on, you can do this."

I follow her towards the Capitol workers, barely breathing. Before I know it I am at the front, and a robotic looking man is glowering at me and holding out his hand. I gingerly offer him a trembling finger, and he snatches it. With a quick bite I wince and my finger is slammed into a ledger.

I see the words, "EVERDEEN, PRIMROSE. 12/YO before I am ushered away.

I walk around, my head a blur, uncertain of where I am going, which line I am supposed to be in. I follow a girl in my class to the very back of the big crowd. We all stand trembling, not speaking or even looking at one another.

After a few more minutes of shuffling and trying to avoid being sick the square falls silent and Effie Trinket takes her place on stage. Her wig is bigger and brighter than ever, too bright for the grey stone in District 12.

She clears her throat and opens her mouth wide, "Happy Hunger Games!" she says. "And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

Her white teeth gleaming she thanks everyone, baring her teeth and telling the world how wonderful it is to be here. A film is shown, about how the rebellion against the Capitol started 74 years ago and how each district must offer a tribute (one male and one female) as a reminder that this shall never happen again.

The screen blacks out, and Effie booms into the microphone, "ladies first!"

She dips her hand elegantly into the glass ball containing all of our names. She rummages around for a few seconds, and then snatches a name.

We all stop breathing.

She whips out the name, and unravels it.

"Primrose Everdeen!"


End file.
